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Post by sugarandspice on Apr 27, 2009 2:46:29 GMT -5
Eleanor: The Path of a Novice
Freedom and serenity were hers to be enjoyed and sought now and while only possessing a novice's ability, she was now able to follow the path and calling of her beloved grandmother.
For the first time in seven years she was finally free. Free of the traps of a bad marriage at the tender age of seventeen to an elderly nobleman who was murdered six years later. Free of the bondage of slavery in the Moonshae Isles to where those murderous thugs had sold her. She had escaped, eventually, by hiding aboard a boat bound for the mainland and the slave collar had been magically removed by a dark mage in exchange for a favour. Unfortunately, the magics had left a faint pink ring mark around her neck that would not disappear.
She kept her last name to herself - why advertise and risk being recognised? The place she had grown up in, near Amn, was not so far distant from Baldurs Gate after all and many travellers passed on the roads between.
"Freedom is of the mind not the body" she chanted again to herself. This thought had kept her going all these years. "And now I have both and I will enjoy them to the fullest."
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Post by sugarandspice on Apr 29, 2009 2:59:30 GMT -5
Natural Breaks
Twice now she had caught handsome men seemingly "doing their business" in the wheat or corn fields of the farmlands. The first, Markon as he had introduced himself a little later, should have known better as he did not appear to be a newcomer like herself. She assumed at first that he was being paid by Jorn to help scare the birds off the corn, by his stance and stillness. But he'd said no. So what else was she to think but that he'd been taking 'natural break'? Could have picked a better place than the edge of the corn field.
The second had been a newcomer to the area, Raymond. She'd caught him standing slap bang in the middle of the wheat field, two farmers had been nearby as well, easily overlooked not to mention probably annoyed at the liberties he had been taking with their crops. Admittedly the height of the wheat would have hidden 'things' but she had still found it a little odd. What was wrong with a discrete bush in the forest? Or the Inn which was not that far back aways to walk. His face had been masked while he had stood there, most probably to avoid being recognised by the angry farmers later.
Men!
Of course, she'd gotten a good tease in of them both bringing a light flush to their cheeks. It might have made them think about the appropriateness of their chosen pitstop for future needs.
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Post by sugarandspice on Apr 29, 2009 3:22:51 GMT -5
Associate
She was an Associate! Sounded rather grand to her. Not quite as grand as her six years as 'Lady of the Manor' but far better than 'Slave' or 'Bitch' as had been the last 'titles' that men had given to her as they had tried to subdue her natural effervescent spirit.
Associate of the Cloakwood er....thingumy....Company..yes that was it...Company. Her role was that of healer and protector as, frankly, she was useless as a fighter.
Early days yet but the elf Earindil was highly experienced and his wolf, Cloakwood, was a dear companion to whom the fuzzball, Decha, her own lazy companion, a big ball of fur with a tendancy to raid bee hives in the forest for the honey, was rather taken with.
It was Dennis, who had recruited her to the 'Company'. The cheeky sod kept her on her toes and though she wouldn't admit it to him, she enjoyed his banter.
They had agreed to a trial period on both sides. While she hunted for a grove, this would give her purpose rather than just milling around the roads and forests....but be damned if she would be chanting their advertising slogan!
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Post by sugarandspice on Apr 29, 2009 3:43:29 GMT -5
To the Rescue!
A chance meet with another gentleman, name of Chrisin, had led to them searching for a grove. They did not get far into the wilderness before he'd found himself swallowed to his neck, deep in a mudpool.
Quick reactions, had her lying on her front, spreading her weight over the muck, reaching into the slurry to his armpits and with burst of strength and twist, she enabled him to use her body to wriggle himself from the worst of it. But her new dress had been near ruined and the dirt was crusting on her face as they spoke.
He led her to river where they both washed and camped. Favour for a favour, he had vowed to acquire for her a new dress. Despite a scrubbing in the river, the mud had dulled the robe, making it look worn and tired. Ah well. It was not precisely a 'handout' and if he remembered to purchase it and she bumped into him again, she would be gratefully accepting it.
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Post by sugarandspice on Apr 29, 2009 4:05:06 GMT -5
Stench most foul
"What the hells is that gods awful stink?" she turned then and noticed the black cowled man, standing behind, that awful stench of what smelled like rotting flesh wafting towards her as he approached.
"Oh...tis you! oops" she grimaced and apologised for her outburst.
"I'm an alchemist and sometimes I mess up with potions" the man replied.
"Er...." she twitched her nose again ".. can't be easy....for you....no..not at all...but I won't hold the smell against you sir!" she lowered her voice then and made suggestion to him then with a friendly smile
"...but you really need to concoct a sweeter smelling variety sir"
She muttered without thinking then to her companion on the matter as they strolled away up the path leaving the man cowled in black behind
"Poor chap....lovemaking must be awful hard."
"Did you have to bring that up?" her companion chuckled.
"Tell it how I see it" she replied with a grin.
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Post by sugarandspice on May 2, 2009 4:17:13 GMT -5
High Jinks of a God
Being turned to stone and being made a bridge ornament by some playful god near the campfires in the farmland had been an upsetting experience. A person had died when magical flame had consumed her and while Eleanor had tended the wounded, she had no magic to bring the dead back. Thankfully, the god deigned to make good on his fun however and returned the woman back to life again. Others where burnt with flames that shot from the camp fire in succession.
She and Raymond had been returning to Baldurs Gate after a trip to Beregost, taking a quick refreshing swim in the river and looking to rest at the Inn when the shannigans had started behind them. It had been confusing, but definately the work of some god. "Loki" she had thought, sounds like that mythical prankster although one there had insisted that it had been Kossuth taking his vengeance on being mocked by one in the crowd.
Which ever god had done the deed, had left her and Raymond pale and throwing up the contents of their stomachs as they approached the town. With the money from Jasper, having returned that wayward badger to him in Beregost, they could afford a room to share that eve, so they did. Her first night since arriving on the sword coast not spent in a haystack but on a feather bed for a change. An affordable taste of luxury and comfort again was very nice.
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Post by sugarandspice on May 3, 2009 4:28:54 GMT -5
A Clearer Path
Finally she was doing something of use. The little healing thrown here and there to people on the roads was nothing compared to this! Full battle, large group, swarmed by ugly hill giants. She took afew blows before she realised that her spear and fire made little difference and she was just getting in the way of the true warriors. She was offered healing kits by Earindil and the lady Anie to dole out to the injured. This was her role, she realised. Follow and tend, follow and mend, bandage and cast, revitalise and revigor. She smiled as the team wended there way up and down the hill, hither and thither, cutting through the giants like a hot knife through butter. What skill! what team work!. There had been a couple of difficult moments when protective spells had worn out and the group, confident in their fighting had split up but they had managed to regroup again.
She was curious of Anie's training, certain twas different to her own, priestess not druid, but at that point, both supportive. She looked upon the priestess and her skills with new found respect. No longer would she be calling those of clerical persuasion "quacks". If she was to attain anywhere near the level of skill and usefulness of Anie, she needed to spend more time in training and acquire more of those kits. Indeed, training, it all boiled down to that and it was slow progress and there were things only other druids could teach her. Time to find others.
She had met one, Silvia, a half-orc and instantly knew her as sister despite their racial differences, they recognised each other by ancient tongue and connection was made. A quiet campside chat had her sharing her story with Eleanor and she offered her sympathy and support to the tusked girl.
After the battle in the hills, she retired to a haystack in Beregost for the night and before settling down, opened the package that Raymond had given to her earlier. Admiring the flower and the note within, she smiled. Another friend made and an offer of protector of sorts, she vowed to honour his sentiments and see also where that particular path took her.
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Post by sugarandspice on May 3, 2009 5:20:00 GMT -5
Name calling
The words had hurt, there was some truth there, she had been called that name before, had been one, but not by choosing. But no way was she going to give this bitch the satisfaction of knowing the circumstances, so she did not deny it. The hidden voice of a female stalking him like prey had her retorting possessively, saying "Find a man of your own and leave off of mine". She had said it hoping to get rid of his stalker, and left question upon his face as he looked upon her own, but it only seemed to incite the woman further. Eleanor poked with her spear into the air around them, and with some choice words that left both of them pale, the woman eventually moved on, still hidden. Coward! she thought, staying hidden and threatening, chasing this good man for no apparent reason. A woman to be pitied if that was her thrill of the day.
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Post by sugarandspice on May 5, 2009 4:10:16 GMT -5
A chair for the 'King' of Sneaks
"My chair!"
Dennis was moping. The throne just would not fit through the door it was that big. She offered to help him retrieve it, so desperate he seemed to acquire it. Earlier he had told her of his own name calling. 'King' one person had been calling him in Beregost. And whilst he had joked, she'd sensed that he seemed to rather like that name.
"If you really want that throne for yourself, guess I could shift to bear and haul it out of here" she offered with a sigh "..for a fee of course" she teased "..and I don't mean money."
"What then? Sex?" he smirked.
"Let me set you up with that redheaded barmaid of Beregost is what, the one that fancies you" she grinned.
The banter continued between them as it usually did, while Earindil tried to lead the two humans around the maze of the minotaur labyrinth and teach his associates the route. While Dennis managed reasonably well, she was pretty much lost. At times Dennis was so quiet and hidden in the shadows around the labyrinth that she thought he'd gone missing, but Earindil could hear him with his sharp elven ears being more used to Dennis' ways than herself and reassured her.
And if she did manage one day to get that chair for him where would he put it anyway?
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Post by sugarandspice on May 10, 2009 3:18:54 GMT -5
Smarter than the Average Bear
No fun, no frolicks, no fish.
He paced the sandy beach near the river, one eye on the 'fun'; a goblin in the far distance within the woods, the other on the couple 'frolicking' in the water. His mistress had commanded him to stand guard, would not let him join in to mess about in the water. Their clothes, packs and weapons lay on the beach, the remnants of his fish supper, a tail of a salmon, lying nearby.
Boredom.
He could hear their primal growls and grunts despite the rush of the water and he twitched an ear and growled softly. He knew the man, had smelt him, liked him even, and he could tolerate the she-wolf that ran with him. He heard his mistress cry out and he padded to the waters edge again to look upon them, to check all was safe. His brown eyes took in their stance; her legs around the waist of the man, his face buried in her neck and his hands clutching her rear as they stood and moved as one beneath the waterfall. Another twitch of an ear as he heard her cry again with surprise and astonishment then laugh softly. She was safe enough and he turned his bulk back to lie by the fish tail, licked it, wishful of more, catching the occasional teasing glimmer of a silver-back fish lit up by moonlight as it jumped the rocks in the river heading upstream. No fish. Not until they were done and his mistress released him..then it would be another meal of fish, a hunt of goblin and if particularly lucky, a finding of a bee's nest and the golden honey he so adored.
The bear heaved a heavy sigh and slumped back against a rock using it to scratch his back and bottom in a lazy fashion, his gaze switching everyso often between the fun, the frolicks and the fish.
"Forget the feather bed, forget the timing of the moon cycle and my greatest desire....I want you now..here..in this my proclaimed grove, this piece of perfection" she'd urged him on, the moment and the beauty had swept all her plans away, she was lost in her want and her passion. This was something else, not need for heir and succession, not requirement as slave, this was her choice, freely given, with this man and her heart was engaged. Feeling her heat and her wild need matching his own he had been swept along too.
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Post by sugarandspice on May 11, 2009 2:50:34 GMT -5
Freedom to Play
"How can I describe the freedom and pleasure that taking the form of an animal gives to me? Once, I used that ability as an escape from those that enslaved and abused me, but now I enjoy it simply for 'being' the animal.
I played with a man today, Max, a knight I think he is, if his shiney armour, sword and shield are anything to go by. I met him along the path where the ogres roam, wagged tail and barked, trotted around him and nipped at his heels playfully and recieved some dried meat for my efforts and thanked him with a lick to the face. He knows me as human, he did not know me as wolf. Inwardly I smiled, my actions were unthreatening and I did not feel like revealing myself; I was having far too much fun.
Despite what my new lover thinks, I do not think all knights are such as he has encountered. Underneath, they are usually men of good heart with somewhat noble ideals and some can be a little pompous at times. I would not wish those days as noblewoman back for all the wealth in the land but I will admit to missing the company of knights on occasion.
I received a message from the knight later. It was very sweet, poetic even. He had not guessed my identity but he had seen the wolf and thought of me. I was ..touched."
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Post by sugarandspice on May 13, 2009 4:26:39 GMT -5
Dealings with a Thayan Wizard
It was a balance between protection and risk. She wanted the additional protection and hoped that, firstly, the armour was not enchanted with some evil arcane spell, and secondly, that the mage who disappeared into darkness after the transaction would not seek further contact, having accepted the Thayan branded chainmail for a song.
Money was hard to come by. He offered it for nearly half the price than for a lesser quality one that the smithy at Beregost had in stock. So...with the barest of hesitation and the help of a friend, she acquired the piece.
Perhaps she could scratch out the Thayan symbol and next time she saw the helpful elven wizard, Xation, who had already shown his goodly colours by saving her once from a possible sacrifice on the altar of Bane, she would ask him to take a look and check for any odd enchantments.
But so far, so good.
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